


Wait for Me

by DwaejiTokki



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Death, Desperation, Family, Gen, Sad, Sickness, Starvation, Tragedy, War, blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwaejiTokki/pseuds/DwaejiTokki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Sokka sick, it’s up to Katara to provide for them both. So she goes out in search of food, only to become lost in a blizzard. She has a limited amount of kindling for an emergency fire. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for Me

“I’ll be back later, Sokka,” she promised, tightly tying off the door to their small sealskin hut. If Sokka had heard her he gave no indication, only continued to feverishly wheeze in his cocoon of blankets and skins. A sheen of sweat coated his brow, which was pinched with discomfort. His face was gaunt with both the sickness and hunger, as with the men at war there had been little hunting. The women and elderly did their best to provide, but they were not skilled enough. Some families had already succumbed to starvation.

            Katara and Sokka had been doing the best of all of them, Sokka even more so. But then he’d gotten ill. That left Katara to struggle with all the work—finding food and kindling with which to build fires. She’d resorted to burning some of their possessions, even their father’s relic scrolls, but it just wasn’t enough.

            And Sokka was only growing worse.

            She was loath to leave him for long, so she hurried across the barren white tundra, spear in hand. If only Katara could find something nearby, something easy to kill and to transport back home. And though it was horribly selfish of her, she hoped that no one would notice her kill so that she wouldn’t have to share. Sokka needed the meat more than anyone else in the tribe.

            It was going to blizzard soon. Katara expected—no, hoped—that she would return before then. She’d never navigated one alone, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They _needed_ the food.

            A few flakes drifted down around her, signaling that the storm was not far off. She ignored the primal fear that began to bubble in her intestines, and pushed onwards, her back to the village. The few huts with a thin stream of smoke exposed those that still lived.

            Desolate, that was the word for their current existence.

            Perhaps they would have met a better fate to be killed at the hands of the firebenders their men were chasing. Anything but this time of starvation and sickness.

            Katara pressed on, shivering at the cold touch of the wind.

            The snowflakes were descending at a much faster rate now, clinging to her locks of hair and sticking to her clothes. Still she trudged on, using the butt of the spear as a guide before her to reveal how deep the snow was. Looking over her shoulder, Katara realized that she had passed the beyond the horizon; she could no longer see the village.

            “No going back,” she said determinedly, facing forward again. “We need meat! Sokka needs meat.”

            With that she continued.

            The blizzard began then with full force, obscuring her vision. The winds buffeted her, and she raised her arms to shield her face from the vicious flurries.

            “Oh!” she cried out when a particularly violent gust of wind knocked her into a deep drift. Katara pushed herself up, spitting out the frozen powder. Her gloved hands dug through the snow, searching for the crucial spear that she had dropped.

            It was no use.

            Defeated, Katara tried to turn back to the village, but then realized that she wasn’t sure from which direction she had come. The blizzard hid everything from her: the sky, the horizon, even the distant ice peaks with which she was so familiar. All she could see was white.

            She knew she had to do something to ensure her survival.

            Katara knelt where she stood and began to dig as quickly as she could. The blizzard replaced much of the snow that she displaced, but she worked diligently. Soon enough she had made a burrow in the snow that was large enough to cover her if she crouched, and she crawled into it backwards. She pressed a wall of snow against the entrance, holding it there until she was sure that it would not cave in and bury her alive.

            It was pitch dark in her tiny igloo, but Katara removed her gloves and felt through her pockets until she found what she needed: Sokka’s trust flint and a small bundle of kindling that she had brought, just in case. It was the case now that it was necessary for her survival.

            She placed the dry wrapper down on the snow floor first so that the kindling would lit, and then struck the flint. With the brief spark of light, she saw that she was a little off her mark and adjusted. The next strike rendered the kindling alight, and she gently blew on the smoldering pile until it grew stronger.

            Relieved to have the warmth and light, Katara replaced the flint in her pocket and sat back, pulling on her gloves again. She hoped that the blizzard would end soon so that she could go back to Sokka, who would surely miss her sooner or later.

            The wind howled evilly outside her tiny cave, calling her to her death.

            She ignored it.

            Katara kept a watchful eye on the miniscule blaze. She had to be careful that she use as little as possible. It was undetermined when the blizzard would tire itself out, and she had a limited supply of kindling. Besides, she wanted to save as much as possible for the fire back at the hut. They needed it more there, especially with Sokka being sick.

            She hummed quietly to herself to pass the time, occasionally stopping to listen to the howling wind. When the fire ran low, she added a bit more kindling to keep it going. And then a bit more. And then a bit more.

            Katara began to grow sleepy, eventually.

            The cold had seeped into her bones so that she was numb throughout her extremities, but she did not shiver. In fact, Katara felt quite warm and cozy. Her head lolled and jerked as she dozed and then forcefully woke herself.

            The wind had finally stopped, and the snowy roof above her glowed with a sort of ethereal light. It was still day!

            Exuberantly, Katara reached up and began to claw her way out of the igloo. The snow fell and extinguished the tiny fire. She needed to get back to Sokka quickly.

            When she emerged it was find that she was not alone.

            Katara gaped up in awe, eyes filling with tears. “Mother?” she whispered.

-Two Years Later-

            When Hakoda at last returned from the war, it was find his village gone. He and his remaining men were shocked and despaired. Several wails came from the huts that were investigated, where the frozen, partially decomposed remains of their families were discovered. Others were relieved to find their huts empty, but there was no indication of life anywhere.

            Hakoda, feeling apprehensive, visited the cold hut he had once called home. It was not empty.

            His knees shook so badly that he was hardly able to walk towards the mound of blankets curled around the fire pit. He knelt beside it and peeled it back.

            Sokka.

            He choked back a sob to see his son’s face frozen peacefully, but much too gaunt and covered with white crystals. Hakoda peeled the blankets back further, expecting to find his daughter in the same state, clinging helplessly to her brother. But Sokka was alone, much to his shock.

            Hakoda, almost hopefully, glanced about the hut, but found no sign of her. Perhaps she had left, or went to another hut in search of food or warmth. But that made no sense: she would not abandon her brother.

            Then he noticed a crumpled sheet of parchment in Sokka’s fist.

            He forced the ice-like fingers open. A hot tear trickled into his beard as one of the appendages broke off, and he shot off silent but fervent apology to his son’s spirit. On the paper, in writing which he recognized as Katara’s, was written: “Gone hunting. Will be back soon. Water in the flask by the fire. Drink it.”

            And the back of the small piece of paper was one last message from her. Hakoda broke down in grief when he read them, bowing over to press his brow to his son’s.

            _Wait for me._


End file.
